In his dream, Joseph sees the Burning Beard one more time. With his face even more of a blaze than usual, he and his brother accost Pharaoh in the early morning, when Pharaoh goes down to wash in the Nile. Joseph watches them argue, but all he can hear is a roar. Now the brother raises his staff, he strikes the water—and the Nile turns to blood! Joseph shouts but does not wake up. All over Egypt, he sees, water has turned to blood, not just the river but the streams and the reservoirs and even the wells. For days it goes on, with the old, the young, and the weak dying of thirst. Finally the water returns.
Only—frogs return with it. The entire Nile swarms with them. Soon they cover people’s tables, their food, their bodies. And still more horrors follow. The brother strikes the dust and lice spring forth. Wild beasts roar in from the desert.
Joseph twists in agony, but Yah will not release him. He sees both brothers take fistfuls of furnace ash and throw them into the sky. A wind blows the ash over all the people of Egypt, and where it touches the skin, boils erupt. Now the Beard lifts his arms to the sky and hail kills every creature unfortunate enough to be standing outside. As if he has not done enough he spreads his hands at night and calls up an east wind to bring swarms of locusts. They eat whatever crops the hail has left standing. No, Joseph cries. I saved these people from famine. Don’t do this. He can only watch as the Beard lifts his hand and pulls down three days of darkness.
And then—and then—when the darkness lifts, the first born of every woman and animal, from Pharaoh’s wives and handmaids to the simplest farm slave who could never affect political decisions in any way, even the cows and the sheep and the chickens, the first born of every one of them falls down dead.
Just at the moment of waking up, Joseph sees that the finger of death has spared certain houses, those marked with a smear of lamb’s blood. The Hebrews. Yah and the Beard have saved the Hebrews. Joseph’s people. But aren’t the Egyptians Joseph’s people as well? And didn’t he bring the Hebrews to Egypt? If all this carnage comes because the Hebrews have lived in Egypt, is it all Joseph’s fault?
He wakes up choking. For the first time in days his eyes find the strength to weep. He wishes he could get up and kneel by the bed, but since he cannot he prays on his back. “Please,” he whispers. “I have never asked You for anything. Not really. Now I am begging You. Make me wrong. Make this one dream false. Make all my powers a lie. Take my gift and wipe it from the world. Do anything, anything, but please, please, make me wrong.”
But he knows it will not happen. He is Joseph ben Jacob, Lord Viceroy of dreams. And he has never made a wrong prediction in his life.
“Radical, Sacred, Hopefully Magical”
Rachel Pollack interviewed by Terry Bisson
Does Tarot work?
Yes. Not only that, it will do the work you hire it to do. It has a long resumé.
Your career with Tarot seems quite successful. Do your followers know you are also a fiction writer? Is there leakage between the two realms?
Not that much, which I find both strange and frustrating. Strange, because you’d think that people who say that my Tarot books are vital to their lives would be very interested to read my stories (since Tarot is somewhat specialized, I would not necessarily expect that of my fiction audience). But that does not seem to be the case. And frustrating, both because who doesn’t want a wider audience, and I think people’s views on Tarot might open up somewhat to read my fiction. I am the same person, after all. I don’t turn a switch in my brain to write one, then the other.
The Shining Tribe artwork—yours? Are the cards different? How much alteration and invention is acceptable?
Yes. I had planned to sketch them out, then hire an artist to do the final pictures. But I had trouble finding someone who was willing to stay close to my visions of what they should be. Then the great artist Niki de Saint Phalle, who had invited me to consult with her on her Tarot sculpture garden in Italy, told me I needed to do them myself. So I became more serious about the drawing. The influences are to a large extent tribal and prehistoric art from around the world, but they’re also connected thematically to the more well-known versions of the cards. Not everyone sees that, however, which has caused some people to think they cannot “work” with the deck. Something I find very satisfying is that the strongest response to the pictures has come from artists.
What’s a Traveler? What do you think of the movie The Fisher King?
The Travelers are meant to be the reality behind all the traditions of sorcerers, magicians, witches, shamans, root doctors, alchemists, etc., from the earliest humans to the present day. They are always set apart, keeping their existence hidden from ordinary society, yet also completely up to date, having their own dark web, called Jinn-net, and using “spirit drones” to deliver supplies for their magical workings. I’ve had a great time writing these stories. Each one adds to the lore, building on the ones before it.
I love The Fisher King—seen it three times. Mostly it’s the brilliant construction and the powerful performances, but I also found it thrilling because I studied King Arthur in college and know the original story of the Fisher King and the Wasteland. The title of my Jack Shade collection, The Fissure King, actually came from a writer friend named Nancy Norbeck. We were discussing a Doctor Who episode with an alien called the Fisher King, and Nancy said that the first time she heard a character say it she took it as “Fissure.” I realized that the expression, as both a title and a character, was perfect for an original novella that would tie together the four previously published stories. I asked if I could use it, and Nancy was kind enough to agree.
What or who got you into Tarot? Or were you raised in that religion?
As I’m sure you know, Tarot is not a religion. It began as a card game in the Renaissance, then in the late eighteenth century it began to be seen as both a repository for ancient doctrines and a device for fortune-telling. Growing up, I never heard of it, and even after college I only knew of it as a sort of plot device in T.S. Eliot’s great poem “The Wasteland” (which is based on the Fisher King, among other things). Then, in the early spring of 1970, I was teaching at a state college in upstate New York, and another teacher said she would read my Tarot cards if I gave her a ride home. As soon as I saw them I knew they were something I had to have. They were pretty obscure back then, and it took some searching but I finally found a deck.
That time, 1970–71, was a great watershed for me. I discovered the Tarot (or the Tarot discovered me), I came out as a transwoman and a lesbian, and I sold my first story, to Michael Moorcock’s New Worlds.
What are the two parts of Why?
Origins and purpose.
Why does the Sun exist? Because pieces of dead stars coalesced to form a next-generation star that reached a critical mass and came to life.
Why does the Sun exist? To create just the right conditions for organic, self-aware life to come into existence on the third planet, and with life, eventually, consciousness.
Who was Lou Stathis?
My second editor on the comic Doom Patrol. Lou was tough. I learned a lot from him, but he also was a champion of my work. Sadly, he died, way too young, of a rare brain condition inherited from his father (who’d also died of it), and the editor who took over had a different vision of what kind of work he wanted to see.
You have been acclaimed as “One of the Most Important Women in Geek History.” Gosh. Does this come with benefits?
Ah, if only. The fact is, though, there is a great benefit, and that is hearing from the people whose lives my work has touched. I also get invited to teach (usually Tarot) in places like Australia and China, and that’s pretty terrific.
Tell us about Doom Patrol. How did that come about?
I greatly admired the work being done on it in the late ’80s (the comic began in the ’60s), by a writer-artist team named Grant Morrison and Richard Case. At a party I met the editor, Tom Peyer, and after gushing about it confessed it was (then) the only monthly comic I r
eally wished I might someday have a chance to write. Tom told me that Grant was ending his run, and if I wanted to send him a sample script he’d consider it. So I did, and it became my first issue. In the months leading up to the change-over I wrote a series of dumb letters in the voice of a gee-whiz fangirl. The first said something like “Gee, Mr. Peyer, Doom Patrol is just the coolest thing ever!!! Grant Morrison is, like, totally a complete genius!!! If he gets sick or dies or something, can I write it?” I sent the first to Tom without telling him, and he liked it so much he told me to send one every month until the time came to make the announcement. In the next to last one I threatened him with some kind of mob action (his head in the toilet bowl, I think I said) unless he let me write it. Then in the last I apologized, adding, “The thing is, I already told my mom I was doing it, and she told all her friends.” So Tom, as the editor, announced, “Well, there it is, she told her mom, so what can we do? Rachel Pollack is the new writer on Doom Patrol.” And amazingly, there are people to this day who believe that’s how I got the job.
A historian of comix (there are many) once said that your character Coagula “perfectly explained to Robotman how gender identity works.” What did she tell him?
First of all, a nitpick—“comix” refers to the “underground” work by 1960s–70s cartoonists, such as R. Crumb. The work published by the big companies has always been called “comics.” Coagula, whose actual name was Kate Godwin (we almost never used the secret hero name—the characters in Doom Patrol didn’t have secret identities) doesn’t so much explain gender identity to Cliff (Robotman) as identity itself. Though Cliff is a human brain in a metal robot body, he’s been falling for Kate, and then someone tells him she’s trans. He freaks out and confronts her, saying, “You used to be a man!” Kate says, “No, Cliff, I was never a man.” Then he says, “But you had a penis, right? And you cut it off!” Kate then says, “And what about you, Cliff? Do you have a penis? Are you a man?” She then goes on to say we are who we are because we know who we are.
What were her superpowers?
She had alchemical powers based on the old slogan “Solve et Coagula.” A gesture with her left hand could make something dissolve, then the right could cause it to coagulate. But really, her main superpower was belief in herself.
If, as some believe, science fiction is a bastard child of literature, then comics are …
The bastard child of movies? Or maybe it’s the other way around. Not sure.
What kind of car do you drive? I ask this of everyone.
A red Nissan Versa named Katrina (for the mysterious “High T” in the title story of this collection).
Did you enter the SF/Fantasy field as a fan or as a writer? Were you made to feel welcome?
Oddly enough, I did not know fandom existed until I became a pro writer. I wish I had, I’m sure my high school and college years would have been a lot more exciting. And I was definitely welcomed.
Is there a lot of paperwork involved in gender change? Licenses, deeds, IDs, etc.?
Not as much now as there used to be! Or maybe it’s just a lot easier.
What poets do you read for fun?
Questions like this always throw me because it changes—and because I read more prose. I’ve liked Joy Harjo a lot—Muscogee (Creek) poet who writes in English. And I was, am, very influenced by a movement called Ethnopoetics, radical modern translations of ancient poetry and shamanic/magical texts. There’s an experimental poet/fiction writer named Selah Saterstrom I enjoy. Her work is influenced by magic and divination. I read “The Wasteland” every April (“the cruelest month”) and short passages from Finnegans Wake every February 2, which is James Joyce’s birthday. Technically, the Wake is a novel, but its language is more musical than any poetry.
What pulled you into writing, story or words?
Tough one. I would have to say story, but the way it’s told is so vital.
Is “Burning Beard” from the Bible, or does it only pretend to be?
Well, it’s what Jews call midrash, a kind of expansion of something in the Bible, in this case the life story of Joseph, from Genesis. But it’s a pretty radical form of midrash!
I think of you as a “stand-aside” writer. I expect a certain formality in your prose, which elevates everything. Even the humor.
I like that. Thanks. The only thing I’d add is that I think I do that even more with strong emotions, particularly in parts of “The Beatrix Gates.”
Ever hit a bad patch in either career?
When Godmother Night won the World Fantasy Award it was already out of print, and its American editor, who was a champion of my work, told me that the publisher had told him there was “no way” they’d publish another fantasy by me.
You write in longhand first with a fountain pen. Any other drills, charms, or tricks as a writer?
Just pushing myself to write a certain number of words a day. I sometimes like to say, “Anyone who thinks guilt never helps anything has never been a writer.”
What were you doing in 1968?
Marching, shouting, chanting. Actually, I was in grad school for a year, which was awful. I also cast my first presidential vote. I couldn’t bring myself to vote for Hubert Humphrey, so voted for the radical black comic Dick Gregory. Later I found out that Gregory, for all his terrific politics on many issues, was an anti-Semite. That was a lesson I never forgot.
Your first publication was with a pen name. How come and what was it?
Not really a pen name, just my birth name. I sold my first story before I came out and changed my name. And as I say in the essay “Trans Central Station,” you can find it easily enough, but I’m not going to give it, out of respect for all those trans people who must fight so hard for people to acknowledge their “real” name, the name they give themselves.
Shamanism, Tarot, Judaism, Paganism, Witchery—are all these present in your everyday quotidian life or are you just saving a seat for them?
You forgot Goddess worship! They’re all there, but in my own mix. A friend once told me of a form that asked your “faith,” and I thought, if I had to answer that, I might put down “Heresy.”
You had an encounter with cancer. Anything to say about that? Turning point, hinge, bump in the road?
It was an amazing experience, largely due to the great out-pouring of love and support from so many people literally all over the world. I had cancer twice, actually, with the second time requiring a very radical treatment known as “stem cell replacement therapy,” requiring three weeks in the hospital. But it’s two years now, and it seems to have worked.
I know you have a suspicion that certain science fiction writers were secretly trans. Care to comment? Why not?
I like that “Why not?” It’s respect, really, for people’s privacy, in this case mostly the families, since two of them are dead. And I get this from their writings, not any knowledge of their private lives.
My Jeopardy answer: Young Adult. You provide the question.
“What is the most dismissed subgenre in writing today?” The finest book about slavery ever written by a white person is a YA book, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, by M.T. Anderson. And one of the greatest fantasy works of modern literature, His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, is not even YA, it’s a children’s book.
Violets were once big business in Rhinebeck. Also, Rufus Wainwright was born there. Is there a connection?
Didn’t know about the violets, but Rufus Wainwright’s mother, Kate McGarrigle, wrote one of my favorite songs, “Talk to Me of Mendocino.”
One sentence on each please: Guy Davenport, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Ray Lafferty.
Pass on the first two. For the third, R.A. Lafferty is one of the great neglected writers of SF, somewhat like Cordwainer Smith. My partner and I used to refer to him as Great-Souled Lafferty. (That’s two sentences, but I figure I had credit from the other two writers.)
Ever been torn apart by wild dogs?
Keep thinki
ng I should say yes, but nothing comes to mind.
Rejected by (or disappointed in?) mainstream feminism, you discovered the “Goddess movement.” How did that come about, and what the hell is it anyway?
I’m not going to get into the hostility to trans women that arose in the radical feminist world, but the Goddess movement was the rediscovery of the powerful female deities, temples, and stories before the rise of the so-called Great Religions.
Thank you for not telling us about your cats.
Anytime.
How would you describe your politics today?
Radical, sacred, hopefully magical.
Were you ever a Nice Jewish Boy?
I’ve always been Jewish, even when I thought I wasn’t, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been a boy, even when I thought I was. As for nice, I’ve always tried to be, but I’ve also always tried to be tough.
Bibliography
Novels
Golden Vanity (New York: Berkley Books, 1980)
Alqua Dreams (New York: Franklin Watts, 1987)
Unquenchable Fire (London: Century, 1988)
Temporary Agency (London: Orbit, 1994)
Godmother Night (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996)
The Child Eater (New York: Quercus/Jo Fletcher Books, 2014)
The Fissure King: A Novel in Five Stories (Sumner, WA: Underland Press, 2017)
Collections
Burning Sky (Campbell, CA: Cambrian Publications, 1998)
The Tarot of Perfection: A Book of Tarot Tales (Prague: Magic Realist Press, 2008)
The Beatrix Gates Page 8
